Intimate Knowledge

by Amanda Stevens

  “Like I said, I never seriously believed you were involved. But I needed a way to keep track of Avery Bennett’s movements.”

  “And I told you every time he left the country. Every time we received a shipment,” she said softly. “I told you everything. Is that why you pretended to be in a coma? Did you think I’d confess something to you?”

  “I pretended to be in a coma because someone tried to kill me,” he said grimly. “I was on my way to the Morehart the day of our wedding when my car was forced off the road. Someone shot at me…damned near killed me. We realized then that my cover was blown, and I’d be more effective if certain people thought I was out of commission for a while. Any confessions would have been a side benefit.”

  Penelope closed her eyes at his matter-of-fact tone. “You said you found out that I had phoned your father from Mexico. Does he know about this?”

  “He knows some of it.”

  “Is that why he’s so hostile toward me? Does he still think I’m involved?”

  Simon shook his head. “No. But he also knew that if he didn’t find a way to keep you at arm’s length, it would be next to impossible to fool you. You were pretty suspicious as it was.”

  “What about Yvette Dickerson? How much does she know?”

  “Everything. She’s one of us.”

  The anger that welled up inside Penelope at the thought of being duped by Yvette Dickerson surprised her. Anger, and maybe still a tinge of jealousy.

  “Is Fairhaven really a rehabilitation center or just a front?”

  “It’s real. But the staff…well, let’s just say, they have a special relationship with the government.”

  Whatever that meant.

  Penelope pushed back her hair in frustration. “How could you do it, Simon? Apart from the moral and ethical aspects of what you did, how could you physically pull it off? I stuck a pin in your finger and you didn’t even flinch.”

  He flinched now. “Trust me, that was the easy part.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Regret flashed in his eyes before he quickly looked away. “You told me a lot of things, Penelope. Some of which were a little hard to hear. Not reacting to a pin-prick was the least of my worries.” His eyes came back to hers. “And then, of course, there was the day you decided to enlighten me about your fantasy.”

  She could feel herself turn bright red. “Don’t you dare bring that up! Oh, my God!” She buried her face in her hands, completely mortified.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I was just trying to explain the difficulties of the situation. I’m a normal, red-blooded male, and it’s a little hard to fight nature, that’s all.”

  “Really?” She lifted her head and glared at him. “There were times when you could have fooled me.”

  It was his turn to frown. “What do you mean?”

  “What difference does it make now?” she muttered.

  His voice hardened. “I’ve told you what I can, and now it’s your turn. Where’s the suitcase?”

  So they were back to that again. Penelope couldn’t look at him anymore. She turned her head away. “Why should I tell you anything? Why should I believe a word out of your mouth after what you’ve put me through?”

  He stood. “Get up.”

  “What?”

  He motioned with his hand. “Get up and get dressed under your own steam or I’ll do it for you.”

  He reached for the cover, but she drew it around her even tighter. “Don’t touch me. Don’t you dare even lay a finger on me.”

  He leaned down and planted his hands on either side of her. “You’re right,” he said. “You have no reason to accept my word on anything. So get dressed and I’ll take you to see someone you can believe.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  He took her to the federal building downtown and introduced her to a man whose face she immediately recognized from TV. His name was Charles Saber, and he was the man the local reporters always flocked to when they needed clarification about the latest Homeland Security alert. His credentials were impeccable, as were Simon’s, Penelope was soon to discover.

  Once they were seated, Saber began to talk to her about the responsibilities of his office and the larger mission of the Department of Homeland Security. Eventually, he brought the conversation back to the subject of Nicin.

  “Setting aside the fact that the toxin is illegal,” he said, “and that its side effects can be lethal, there are larger issues at play here. Anytime the border is penetrated, our national security is potentially at risk.”

  Penelope didn’t say anything. She was too intimidated by her surroundings to ask all the questions that were still roiling inside her.

  “We deal in life and death issues here,” he said. “Make no mistake about that.”

  A photograph of the president hung on the wall behind Saber. Penelope tried to concentrate on that for a moment, but it only made her more nervous.

  “From time to time, we have to call on average citizens like you to help us out.”

  She swallowed. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Exactly what Agent Decker has asked of you. It’s imperative that we have your full cooperation and your complete discretion in this matter.”

  Penelope nodded. “Of course, but I still don’t—”

  “Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” He stood, as if anxious to draw the brief meeting to a conclusion. And at that time of night, Penelope could hardly blame him. She wondered how Simon had made the arrangements so hastily in the first place.

  A few minutes later, she and Simon were back in the parking garage where they’d left the car. Penelope climbed in and leaned her head against the window, staring out at the concrete backdrop. Simon got behind the wheel, but he didn’t start the engine. Penelope knew that he was looking at her as he sat in total silence.

  “What?” she finally muttered.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Do you think I’m okay?” she snapped. Charles Saber had made a believer out of her, but that didn’t mean the Simon pill was any easier to swallow. He’d lied to her for months, and now he expected her to cooperate. And more, he and Charles Saber had both made it clear that it was her duty to cooperate.

  She drew a breath. “The suitcase is at the airport.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  Penelope refused to face him. “It’s not like I had a choice or anything.”

  “Penny—”

  “Don’t call me that, okay? Don’t call me anything.”

  “I never wanted to hurt you,” he said softly.

  He sounded so much like the old Simon then, contrite and concerned, that Penelope had to squeeze her eyes closed against the tears. One escaped, and she angrily wiped it away with her fingertips. “But you did hurt me, Simon. Your lies hurt me and your deception hurt me. When I think about all those weeks…everything I told you…” She trailed off, trying to get her emotions under control. “What hurts most of all, though, is that you don’t even seem to care that you hurt me.”

  “I can’t afford to care.” His voice sounded harsh and brittle and more than a little strained. “Don’t you get that? I have a job to do. I have to stay focused. There’s more at stake here than—”

  “You and me. I get that, Simon.” She turned and glared at his profile. “But do me a favor and spare me any more of those Casablanca-type speeches because, believe me, you are no Humphrey Bogart.”

  His jaw hardened as he stared out the windshield. Muttering something under his breath, he started the engine and the car peeled out of the garage.

  Judging by his anger, Penelope knew that her inference wasn’t lost on him. Casablanca was her favorite movie, and the final scene always made her weep. They’d watched it together once, and Simon had claimed to love it, too. But that had probably just been another lie.

  Lies, lies, and more lies, she thought bitterly. And she’d believed them all. How pathetic was that?

  EVEN AT THAT TIME
of night, the airport was buzzing with activity. They located the airline’s Luggage Service Office, and the woman behind the counter seemed eager to help them.

  “We assign all unclaimed luggage a tag number and then enter it into the computer system,” she explained. “Yours is what we call voluntary luggage separation. That’s why you weren’t contacted. We only make an effort to reunite the passenger with his or her luggage when the airline is at fault. Otherwise, it’s the passenger’s responsibility to put in a claim.” She typed something into the computer and waited for the results. Nodding in satisfaction, she glanced up. “You’re in luck. After seven days, we send unclaimed bags to Central Luggage Service, but yours is still here. Hang on and I’ll have someone bring it up.”

  A few minutes later, Penelope and Simon retraced their steps through the terminal and took the elevator up to the roof where Simon had parked. He stored the suitcase in the back seat, then climbed behind the wheel again.

  “Aren’t you going to open it?” Penelope asked in surprise.

  Simon gave a wary glance around the roof. Only a few cars were parked on that level, but he still seemed tense. “We’re like sitting ducks here, and besides, I need a little more room to conduct a proper search. We’ll go back to your place.”

  Penelope started to tell him that he could take the suitcase and get lost for all she cared, but by the time they arrived at her apartment, her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She wanted to see for herself what someone had hidden inside.

  Just as she unlocked her door, she heard another door open down the breezeway. Simon slipped into the apartment ahead of her, but Penelope was caught on the threshold as Tay stuck her head out.

  “Penelope?” She stepped outside, pulling her door closed behind her. “What are you doing out so late? Is everything okay?”

  “Uh…” Penelope swallowed, trying to come up with an excuse her friend would buy. But unlike Simon, lying didn’t come easy to her, and Tay was very intuitive. “I couldn’t sleep,” she finally said. “I decided to go for a drive.”

  Tay’s brows shot up. “This time of night? And after you were so freaked out earlier? I’m surprised you’d go out alone.” She started down the breezeway. Her robe hung loosely over her nightgown, and one hand was hidden in the terry-cloth folds. Penelope suddenly wondered if those folds concealed a weapon. “But then, maybe I’m assuming too much. Maybe you’re not alone.” Tay paused expectantly. “I thought I heard voices out here.”

  “I met a friend for drinks,” Penelope said with a shrug, surprised by how easily the lie popped out this time. “We decided to come back here and catch up on old times.”

  Tay lowered her voice. “Why, Penelope Moon, you’ve got a man in there, don’t you?”

  When Penelope didn’t answer, Tay gave a triumphant little laugh. “I knew it! You can’t fool me.” Then she sobered. “Honey, I’m the last person in the world to give you a sermon, but…are you sure you want to do this? I know how much you love Simon.”

  Penelope winced, knowing that Simon was probably listening behind the door at that very moment. She said almost defiantly, “Don’t worry about me. I know exactly what I’m doing. Everyone’s been telling me that I should get on with my life, and you know what? They’re right. It’s time I faced the truth about Simon.”

  But Tay didn’t look convinced. “If you know what you’re doing, why do you have that deer-caught-in-the-headlights look?”

  “I’m fine, Tay, really.”

  “If you say so.”

  Penelope waited until Tay had gone back to her apartment, and then she went inside her own place and locked the door. Simon was already in the bedroom going through the suitcase. Since she hadn’t given him the key, she supposed he must have broken the locks.

  She stood at the door watching as he pulled a black lacy bra from the suitcase and held it for a moment longer than he should have. When Penelope gave an indignant cry, he glanced up.

  “I never saw you wear that before.”

  She walked over and snatched the lingerie from his hand. “I was saving it for the honeymoon.” See what you missed? her tone implied.

  He gave her a bemused look. “And here I thought you shopped exclusively at the white-cotton-undies store.”

  “News flash, Simon. You don’t know everything about me. Besides, you never gave me any reason to believe that you were the black-lace type.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She lifted her chin. “Just that I don’t think you have any room to criticize my choice of underwear when you…” She trailed off on a shrug.

  He straightened from the suitcase. “When I what?”

  “When you were hardly creative in bed,” she blurted. “There I said it. Are you satisfied?”

  “Evidently, you weren’t,” he muttered.

  Penelope folded her arms and leaned against the door frame. “But let me guess. Your restraint in bed was all part of the act. You’re really God’s gift to women. A regular James Bond.”

  He shot her a look. “I wouldn’t say that. Exactly.”

  The way he stared at her made shivers run up and down her spine. “Not that it matters now, of course.”

  “Of course not. But you could have said something, you know.”

  “I didn’t want to…”

  “Hurt my feelings?” He grimaced. “Wow. Was I really that bad?”

  “I’ve had better.” Returning to the bed, Penelope began to absently fold the clothing he’d dumped from the suitcase.

  He looked as if he might want to pursue the subject, but then he shrugged and went back to his work. Once he’d searched through everything inside the bag, he used a small knife to slit the lining. Then he took apart the locks and hinges. When the suitcase was completely demolished, he stood back and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Damn. It’s not here.”

  “You mean the Nicin?” When he didn’t answer, Penelope said, “You are looking for Nicin, right?”

  He glanced up. “Sure. I explained all that.”

  “Yes, but now that I’ve had time to think about it for a little while, I’ve got a few more questions.” Penelope set aside the stack of clothing she’d folded. “Why is the Department of Homeland Security involved in this? Smuggling Nicin into the country may be illegal, but surely it doesn’t pose a national security threat.”

  “Any penetration of the border is a potential security threat and falls under our jurisdiction.”

  “Even something used for cosmetic purposes?” she asked incredulously.

  But Simon was no longer listening to her. His hand was still at the base of his neck as he stared down at the suitcase with a puzzled frown. “It must have been a decoy,” he muttered.

  “What? My suitcase?”

  His frown deepened, and he hardly seemed aware of her presence. “They wanted us to think that they were after the suitcase, too. That’s why they broke into the museum. Bennett probably set the whole thing up himself.”

  Penelope remembered suddenly how she’d caught Avery earlier without his crutches, and she said as much to Simon. Then she thought about her sister, Helen, searching her bedroom, but she kept that memory to herself. If Helen was somehow involved, what would happen to her if Penelope confided her suspicions to Simon?

  “My mother bought me that bag,” Penelope said absently. “Helen has one just like it.”

  Simon glanced up. “I’m sorry. I’ll see that you get another one.”

  “It won’t be the same.” There was an odd note of sadness in her voice, although Penelope knew it had little to do with the suitcase.

  “I know,” Simon said softly.

  Regret flashed between them, but the moment was gone before Penelope could cling to it. “So what happens now?”

  “Now we find out where the Nicin really is. Obviously, the suitcase was meant to distract us. My guess is, the shipment is already here. It could be stored at the museum somewhere.”

  “I don’t th
ink so,” Penelope said. “I’m the one who authenticates and catalogs all the shipments that come into the museum. I even x-ray most of the artifacts. I don’t see how anything could have been smuggled in without my knowledge.”

  “What about the basement?” Simon said. “What’s kept down there?”

  “Basement? There isn’t one. This is Houston, remember? We have monsoons.”

  “Yes, but some of the older buildings do have basements,” Simon informed her. “Including the Morehart. I’ve seen a copy of the original floor plan.”

  That was news to Penelope. “Then it must have been walled up a long time ago. Otherwise, I would have known about it. I’ve been over that museum hundreds of times.”

  “Trust me, it’s there,” he said. “And I’d bet my life that Avery Bennett knows about it, too.”

  “If you’ve seen the original floor plan, then you must know where the entrance is,” Penelope reasoned.

  “It used to be under the back staircase, but I checked the day you showed me around the museum. It’s been walled up, all right, but I’m guessing there’s another entrance, possibly outside somewhere.”

  Penelope frowned. “I can have a look around—”

  “No, don’t do that,” he said sharply. “Don’t do anything to let on you know anything. I mean it. These people are ruthless. You can’t do anything to give yourself away. Just go about your normal business. And in the meantime, keep your eyes and ears open. If you see anything suspicious, call me. Night or day.” He took out a card and scribbled something on the back. “Memorize this number and then tear it up. Don’t let anyone else see it. You got that?”

  “Memorize the number,” she repeated. “Keep my eyes and ears open, but don’t give myself away. And don’t look for the basement.”

  “That’s right.”

  She glanced up from the card. “And what will you be doing while I’m busy pretending everything is normal?”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’ll be around.”

  She sniffed. “I wasn’t worried.”

  He let that one go as he walked over to the French doors and glanced out. “I’ll go out the way I came in. Your neighbor strikes me as the suspicious type. I don’t want her to see me leaving your apartment.”